


Falling Higher

by phqyd_roar



Series: The Rise and Fall of Lord Voldemort [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom!Lucius, Discrimination, Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Character Death, Possessive Tom Riddle, Public Sex, Riddle Era, Semi-Public Sex, Sub!Lucius, Violence, dom!Riddle, top!Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phqyd_roar/pseuds/phqyd_roar
Summary: “Why did it take being outed as a faggot for Riddle to notice you? Pardon me, why did it take *sticking his cock down your throat* for Riddle to see you?” --Evan Rosier, always asking the important questions. Lucius Malfoy falls hard, yet gains a place higher than he could have imagined. At what cost? AU placing Lucius Malfoy in Riddle era, without reason but not without consequence.





	1. The Taking

“Hey, Malfoy!”

Monday morning on a drizzly November day, 1944, the students of Hogwarts were bleary eyed and disinterestedly munching on their toast in the Great Hall. Hufflepuff fifth-year prefect Ewan McCartney walked towards Lucius Malfoy, who had just entered the Great Hall with a bunch of his Slytherin year mates.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at him. He had not expected this. McCartney had stormed off crying last night when he had told him their little tryst was over. Now he looked distinctly unhinged.

“Fuck off, McCartney,” he warned. “It’s too early in the morning to talk to scum.”

His friends laughed. McCartney, disturbingly, also found this funny.

“Oh I disagree, Malfoy, I disagree. It’s never too early to expose a slime-eating, double-faced shitbag, is it?”

Before Lucius could snap back, he pulled something from his pocket. He held it up in front of Lucius and Lucius’ eyes widened in horror. McCartney had a picture of him, lying naked in the Hufflepuff’s bed, eyes closed, cock wet, spunk pooling on his stomach. As he watched, a hand, wearing the same wristwatch as the one the Hufflepuff was currently wearing, pulled up the covers over Lucius’ chest. Lucius heard the whispers as his friends took a step back from him.

“ _ Incendio _ !” Lucius snarled.

But McCartney dodged out of his reach, laughing like a maniac.

“I think everyone should see this, don’t you?”

“ _ Accio _ photograph!” Lucius cried, but as he spoke McCartney also held his wand to the photo, and the picture began to multiply like a swarm of locusts. 

They fell to the floor, and in the commotion, even those who had thus far ignored the little showdown in front of the Hufflepuff table came and picked up pictures from the hundreds spreading on the floor. 

“Oh, Merlin—” He heard.

“Disgusting!” 

“Are you fucking stupid?” Lucius hissed at McCartney, shaking with fury. “I am not the only one in that picture.”

McCartney threw the original over his shoulder with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I suppose I’m somewhat in it too. But you know what? I understand people like you. You’re always going on about how prestigious your house is. But your house is more of a fucking prison than mine ever will be. What will your precious friends do to you now that they know you’re a little…fucking…queer?”

Lucius lunged at him. Before Lucius could get more than a few punches into him, the two Hufflepuff beaters McCartney was always hanging around with pulled him off. Still laughing loudly, McCartney left with his friends, leaving Lucius lying on the ground, surrounded by whispers and stares, and friends who no longer looked at all friendly.

The change was immediate. Before, Lucius had been one of the most popular Slytherins in his year. He could not compare, of course, to Tom Riddle’s group of upper year Slytherins, who unofficially ruled their house. It was prestigious to be seen with Tom Riddle. The younger students often heard his closest call him ‘my lord’, and it was coveted to be able to call him that. Lucius, too young to be of any interest to Riddle, did not have that luxury. But he had his place. Now, he couldn’t enter the common room without jeers and insults. He was disgraced.

A few days later, as he sat alone at the breakfast table, trying his best to hold up his head, a bright crimson letter landed in front of him with the Malfoy crest stamped into the seal. Lucius’ heart sank. The Slytherins sitting closest to him had already noticed. 

“Aren’t you gonna open that, Malfoy?”

“I  _ wonder  _ what it says.”

Lucius broke the seal. His father’s voice rose from the envelope, cold, furious, and loud enough to shush all other conversations in the Great Hall.

“ _ The House of Malfoy will not tolerate such impurity and disgrace as you have brought to it. Consider yourself disowned. _ ” 

“No…” Lucius groaned, bile rising to his throat.

He stumbled from his seat, knowing that he would be mocked for running out of the room, but the only alternative was throwing up at the table. 

Lucius wished he could hide in the toilet all day. His father’s letter had cemented his social disgrace. A pureblood disowned by his house was thought of in the same way as Mudbloods and blood traitors— a disgrace, an abomination. He would have no home to return to. All because he couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants. He should never have started that disgusting affair with McCartney in the first place.

He dashed a letter off to his father before his first class, saying that whatever he had heard, it was not true, practically begging for his father’s forgiveness. He started running when he got to the dungeons, already late for his Potions class. He rounded a corner and crashed heavily into a taller boy, who stumbled back a step before slamming him into the wall. He had run into Tom Riddle.

“What’s the hurry?” Riddle asked coldly.

“Sorry, Riddle,” Lucius panted. “I was late for Potions.”

“Busy wanking?” Sneered a voice from behind Riddle. One of his cohorts, no doubt.

“I’m sure he was much busier groveling to his father, isn’t that right?” Riddle picked out an owl feather from Lucius’ blond hair. “Such a shame, Malfoy. Outmaneuvered by a Hufflepuff. Even if your father could stomach a son of such disgusting habits, how could he hand the Malfoy fortune to an indiscrete fool?”

Riddle brushed past him, his cohorts following. One of them glared at Lucius as he walked by, saying, “You better watch yourself, Malfoy.”

There was nowhere to avoid them. There were poisonous snakes in his bed, his textbooks were torn and marked with insults, when he turned on the shower slime burst out of it. Lucius had never experienced such isolation. Lucius had always managed to be on the right side, he was good at doing what was expected of him. But for this. After Cleaning Charms failed to get all of the rancid slime out of his hair, Lucius remembered that McCartney had once taken him to the prefect’s bathroom, and he knew the password. He headed up there to get a moment of peace and quiet. The coast was clear when he went in and had a relaxing bath. After moping around for close to an hour, he drained the bath and turned to leave.

Lucius froze, hand on the door as he stepped into the corridor. There was no running, Tom Riddle was coming towards him in long strides, a little smile already playing on his lips, his dark eyes locked on Lucius’. He grabbed Lucius’ arm, pulled him into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

“Rather tasteless, is it not, making use of the leftover gift of an ex-lover who destroyed your life?”

Lucius flushed. Before he could respond, Riddle forced him to his knees. Looking up wide-eyed, Lucius tried to get up but found that he could not. Riddle unfastened his breeches with long graceful fingers.

“You might as well be of some use, little Lucius.”

“What? No, I won’t!”

Riddle laughed. He fisted a hand in Lucius’ long blond hair and jerked his head back. Lucius pressed his lips together tightly, reaching for his wand.

“ _ Crucio _ .”

In the excruciating pain, Lucius dropped his wand on the floor and opened his mouth to scream. Riddle thrust his cock down Lucius’ throat, released him of the Cruciatus Curse, and bound his hands. He thrust into Lucius’ mouth roughly, making him gag. Eyes watering, Lucius tried to think of any possible way he could escape from this. But Tom Riddle was so powerful, Lucius could think of no one he could go to. Nobody would believe him if he said Tom Riddle had raped him. He knelt there helplessly taking it until Riddle came all over his face.

Panting, Lucius reached for his wand. Before he could touch it, it was covered by Tom Riddle’s boot. He glanced up, utterly humiliated, fear building in his gut. He cringed when Riddle raised his wand, but it was only to undo the bindings on his wrists.

“Take off your clothes.”

Lucius reeled at the order, delivered in such a cool, calm tone. For all his Slytherin cunning, he was helpless against the absolute power that Riddle held over him. Riddle was commended by his professors as the most talented wizard of the century. He was adored by the entire school, in fact, before his social disgrace, Lucius had looked up to him so much, and would have done anything for a moment of Riddle’s attention. His pride struggled with the very recent realisation of his worthlessness. 

Under Riddle’s cool gaze, Lucius began to unfasten his tie. His fingers shook. Riddle’s come clung to his lips, sticky and bitter. He bowed his head and kept his eyes on the floor as he shed his clothes, but he found, to his own astonishment, that he was more than half hard. He had no idea this could be more humiliating.

Riddle wrapped his fingers around Lucius’ cock, and it jerked eagerly in response.

“Poor little whore,” Riddle murmured in his ear. “I had no idea you wanted it this much. Why, I would have put you out of your misery sooner.”

Tears prickled Lucius’ eyes and he tried desperately to hold back any sounds.

“Spread your legs.”

Lucius had obeyed even before he had registered what he was doing. Riddle’s cool fingers caressed his balls and stroked his cock until Lucius was embarrassingly aroused. Suddenly, Riddle closed his fist with crushing force around Lucius’ balls.

Lucius howled in pain, doubling over and cradling himself. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, Lucius heard Riddle laugh.

“Finger yourself.”

“No,” Lucius sobbed, shaking his head.

“Unless you’d prefer I fuck you dry?”

Lucius flinched. He had never bottomed before. 

“I don’t have lubricant.”

“Use your saliva.”

Hesitantly, Lucius pressed a finger into his mouth. He wet it, and reached back to find the puckered entrance. He pressed it in slowly, feeling the soft burn. 

“Hurry up,” said Riddle.

“Please,” said Lucius, his voice breaking. “I’ve never…never…”

“Really,” Riddle said, his voice smooth and pleasant. “It makes no difference to me.”

Lucius added another finger, scissoring them inside his tight passage. His saliva provided the barest of lubrication, and he was sick with dread at the thought of Riddle’s cock splitting him apart.

“Please, Riddle…can you conjure some lubricant? It’ll make it better for you, I promise. You won’t fit, otherwise.”

“What do you call me?”

“My…my lord?” Lucius hated himself for the little thrill he got in saying the words. It was no sign of status here. It was a sign of subservience, or maybe just a dirty sex game.

“Good boy.”

His hand was pushed away. He pressed his cheek against the cold marble floor, and tried to even his breathing. Riddle’s cock nudged at his hole, wide and blunt and wet. In one sharp motion, Riddle thrust into him, not stopping until he was completely buried in Lucius’ arse. Lucius screamed.

“Stop, stop, please stop!”

“ _ Silencio _ .”

As Lucius was forced into silence, the room resonated with the sound of meaty slaps and Riddle’s heavy breathing. Lucius closed his eyes and sobbed silently. It hurt terribly at first, but though Riddle never let up his harsh pace, it became a little easier to bear. Lucius tried to think of anything else, but his mind wouldn’t work while his arse was being plummeted so deeply and thoroughly. At some point, it even started to feel good, and Lucius thoughtlessly reached for his hardening cock. In response, Riddle tied his wrists together again. 

After some time, Riddle’s thrusts became quick and erratic, and Lucius felt the moment his arse warmed with come. Riddle rode out his climax and pulled out.

When Lucius got up again, he found Riddle running a bath. His wand was discarded on the floor, but he was still bound and silenced and the door was locked. The door of the prefect’s bathroom couldn’t be unlocked by anyone but the person who locked it. He stood there uncertainly as Riddle got into the bath. 

“Get in and wash yourself.”

Lucius glanced back at his wand again. Seeing the motion, Riddle snorted. Lucius realised how ridiculous it was to refuse this, of all things. He carefully lowered himself into the opposite corner of the large sunken bathtub. Catching Riddle’s eye, he lifted his bound hands to his mouth and gazed at him pleadingly. Riddle smiled, and lifted a hand out of the water. Lucius felt a spell lift and cleared his throat. Riddle had wandlessly lifted the silencing charm.

“I can’t wash myself like this,” Lucius said.

“Then beg me to untie you,” Riddle replied, shampooing his wet hair.

Looking down at the magical ropes wound tightly around his wrists, Lucius said, “Please, my lord. Please will you untie me?”

“I’m unconvinced.”

“My lord, please…please, please, I beg you…” Lucius’ voice cracked.

The ropes disappeared.

Gasping in relief, Lucius rubbed his sore wrists.

“What should you say?”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Lucius scooped up water to wash tears and come from his face. His arse was sore, and he was trembling uncontrollably. He didn't know how to act. He was terrified, but there was still a part of him that hero-worshipped Tom Riddle. He had always admired the older boy for his effortless grace and charm, his power and wit, the ruthless manner he kept his followers in check.  It was his own fault that he was a disgrace, and of course, that utter bastard Ewan McCartney. He longed for revenge, but in the days since he had fallen from his place, he had been too downtrodden to think of anything he could do to the bastard.

“My lord,” Lucius ventured timidly, “can I ask something of you?”

Riddle turned to him, lean muscles rippling in the water. He narrowed his eyes at Lucius.

“You want me to destroy McCartney, the way he destroyed you, hm?”

“Yes, my lord.” 

Riddle swam towards him until he could lift Lucius’ chin. 

“Presumptuous little boy. Just because you happened to be in my path, does not mean I am your champion now. Submitting to me screaming and crying does not warrant a reward. I require far more than that.”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Lucius found himself saying. “I’ll do better. What…what can I do to be useful to you?”

“What can you do?” Riddle repeated condescendingly. “Be more observant and perhaps you shall see.”

Lucius stared at Riddle as he turned away disinterestedly and began to rinse out his hair. A thought came to him, and he blushed with embarrassment. But what did he have to lose? He grabbed the soap, lathered his hands, and waded across to Riddle. Riddle turned to look over his shoulder.

“My lord, let me…” Lucius stammered, heart thudding wildly, as he pressed his palms to Riddle’s back and lathered him with soap. 

Riddle didn’t stop him. His skin was warm and supple under Lucius’ fingers, and as Lucius’ hands traced the beautiful curve of his narrowing waist, he realised that if Riddle had  _ asked _ him to go to bed with him, he would have fallen over himself to agree. But Riddle never asked. Riddle took, or he expected people to offer what he wanted willingly without him ever having to voice it. His power was intoxicating.

Lucius knelt to wash Riddle’s legs, and then gingerly brushed his fingers over his buttocks and even into the cleft. Riddle turned around, and Lucius stood up quickly, nervous, but Riddle only smirked at him.

“I think you are enjoying yourself a little too much.”

Riddle gripped Lucius’ jaw with wet fingers and kissed him. Lucius moaned, high-pitched in surprise. Riddle tasted of water and mint and his tongue caught Lucius’ perfectly. Riddle’s other hand wrapped around Lucius’ waist and pulled him flush against Riddle’s wet, naked body. Lucius could feel his cock swell against Riddle’s thigh.

Lucius was dizzy when Riddle pulled away. Riddle looked down at him with amusement.

“You see, Lucius? I can be a generous lord.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius agreed fervently.

Riddle lifted himself out of the bath and extended a hand to help Lucius up. Lucius quickly grabbed two bath towels and dried Riddle before he dried himself. As he put his robes back on, Riddle was already dressed, leaning against the door watching him. Lucius picked up his wand from the floor and was about to put it away when he paused. 

He dropped to one knee in front of Riddle and lifted his wand up with both hands, head bowed. An offer of servitude.

Laughing, Riddle took his wand and tapped him on the head. A warm wave of magic enveloped him. Belatedly, Lucius realised Riddle had dried his hair for him.

“Rise.”

Riddle handed his wand back to him.

“Little Lucius, I am not unsympathetic. Show me what you can offer me, and perhaps you will be rewarded.”

Riddle turned, unlocked the door, and left, leaving Lucius clutching his wand, desperately thinking of ways he could prove himself worthy.

 


	2. The Offering

  
Two days later, Lucius sent sixth-year Jakobus Macnair to the Hospital Wing with blood spurting from his orifices when Macnair and Yaxley cornered him in the Potions corridor. Yaxley managed to hit him with a Stunner before Lucius could do the same to him, and levitated him into the Slytherin common room, where Tom Riddle sat with a few other of his closest, Evan Rosier, Michael Avery, and Cassius Selwyn.

“Yaxley, you bring such anger into the room where we are trying to study. At ease.” Riddle did not look up from his book.

“My lord,” said Yaxley, throwing Lucius down in front of Riddle. “I ask that you show this boy his place.”

Riddle looked up. Catching sight of Lucius, he laughed.

“Little Lucius Malfoy. How has he displeased you, Yaxley?”

“He used the Blood-Splitter Curse on Macnair,” Yaxley said, fuming.

“Interesting. Finite. Malfoy, why did you disrespect your elders?”

“They attacked me first, my lord.”

Rosier, Avery, and Selwyn laughed. They thought it was presumptuous of Lucius to call Riddle his lord, but they did not know he had Riddle’s permission to do so.

“You see, my lord?” Said Yaxley. “He thinks much of himself.”

“Can you perform a Blood-Splitter Curse, Yaxley?” Riddle asked mildly.

Yaxley fell silent, face red.

“I do not punish competence. If you cannot defend yourself against a fourth-year, perhaps your time will be better spent here studying with us, rather than roaming the corridors all day.”

“Surely you won’t side with the presumptuous little faggot over Yaxley, my lord,” said Avery with a frown. They had all been quite unpleasant to Lucius recently.

Riddle turned his gaze towards Avery.

“Side with?” He repeated coldly.

Avery raised his hands placatingly.

“I’m just pointing out the natural order of things, my lord.”

“And far be it for me to upset your natural order,” Riddle replied scathingly. He turned back to Lucius. “Tell me Malfoy, what is the natural order?”

“The strong presides over the weak.”

“Since you see fit to attack Yaxley and Macnair, evidently you consider yourself the strong.”

Lucius gave him a little bow. “Not quite, my lord, but I’m working on it.”

Yaxley hissed and Riddle laughed.

“Avery is right. You are quite presumptuous, for such an abomination.”

Lucius barely hid a flinch. He swallowed, and boldly replied, “All the better to serve you, my lord.”

Lucius could see the affronted expressions on all of Riddle’s lackeys’ faces, but Riddle’s smirk didn’t even waver.

“How do you propose to serve me, Malfoy?” Riddle questioned softly. “Would you like to be on all fours for me? Or would you prefer to spread them?”

Steeling himself against the laughter, Lucius said, “There is no position I would refuse in my lord’s service.”

Riddle stared at him as the others howled with laughter.

Finally, voice thick with amusement, Riddle said, “how can I not be tempted by such…loyalty.”

Glancing around at his cohorts, Riddle put down his book and spread his thighs.

“Why don’t you come here and show me exactly how devoted you are, Malfoy.”

Lucius paled. Surely Riddle didn’t expect Lucius to suck him off in the middle of the common room, in front of all his housemates. While that would certainly put him under Riddle’s protection, it was no better than branding him Riddle’s personal whore.

“You heard him, Malfoy,” said Yaxley gleefully.

“We’d all be very disappointed if you were lying,” said Selwyn.

“Yes,” agreed Rosier. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint us, would you?”

Lucius looked at Riddle desperately. Riddle’s dark eyes glittered, boring into his. Lucius stepped forward and knelt between Riddle’s legs.

There were cat-calls. Lucius reminded himself that he must act unperturbed, for the more the reacted, the more he lost grace. He reached for Riddle’s belt, unfastened it, and unbuttoned Riddle’s breeches. Riddle wore plain black boxers underneath. Lucius glanced up at Riddle again, and got a raised eyebrow. He reached into the opening for Riddle’s cock. It was flaccid and heavy in his palm. Lucius stroked it a few times, feeling the satiny skin under his fingers become a little firmer.

“Are you going to suck it or not?” Yaxley said.

Lucius glared at him. “Unless you’re going to, I suggest you keep it shut.”

Amid Yaxley’s hissing protests, Lucius swallowed Riddle’s cock whole. His nose was buried in Riddle’s dark curls, smelling a distinct musky scent as he worked his tongue around the flesh in his mouth that quickly engorged and lengthened until it was pushing at his throat. He pulled up until his lips were wrapped around just the head. Riddle was leaning back in his armchair with his hands folded behind his head, looking utterly relaxed. Somehow, with his cock out in the middle of the common room, getting a blowjob from a boy, he was at his most masculine, and it occurred to no one that this might make their precious Tom Riddle queer.

Lucius worked up and down the thick shaft, cheeks hollowed, tongue swirling, giving it his best. As he pulled back to catch his breath, he heard whistles, and a ‘damn, Riddle’. Riddle’s cock jutted proudly from his fly, straight as an arrow, thick and red, with a large bulbous head so wide Lucius could not close his hand around it. Lucius’ breath caught at the thought that this was what had breached him just two days ago. He was still sore, and he had been bleeding a little that day when Riddle had fucked him, but here he was, back for more. It was his only choice. Distasteful as it might be to have to claw his way back up the social ladder by spreading his legs, it was better than being an utter social disgrace - and Lucius was a Slytherin by nature.

He tried his best to fit as much of it into his mouth as he could, but there was still at least half left when he hit his gag reflex. He breathed deeply and pushed down further each time he went down, until he worked past it and Riddle’s thick cock was lodged in his throat. Riddle made a deep sound of pleasure, grabbed Lucius’ hair, and thrust down his throat. Lucius couldn’t breathe. He kept still and relaxed his throat as Riddle fucked his face, but as Riddle was speeding up and he knew he must be close to climax, Lucius was dizzy with lack of air. He pushed against Riddle’s hips, trying to stop him, but Riddle ignored him and kept thrusting until he came down his throat. Lucius gasped for air, barely registering his surroundings as he wiped tears and saliva from his face.

When he looked up at the other boys, they were staring at him like a piece of meat.

“Well, finish the job, Malfoy,” said Riddle.

Lucius carefully buttoned Riddle back up again.

“I daresay I’m impressed,” said Riddle, smiling, as he carded his fingers through Lucius’ long hair. “You do have your talents. Why, if you’d offered such services to all my friends here, I’m sure they’d have been far more friendly.”

The others laughed a little awkwardly, not nearly as comfortable in their masculinity to admit how turned on they were by Lucius’ performance. Lucius had seen them shifting their robes to hide their erections.

“Only you, my lord,” Lucius said.

“To be clear, you want to be my whore.”

Lucius bit his lip at the mocking laughter. Better to get fucked by the king than get screwed by everyone in his house, he reminded himself silently.

“There are a lot of people who covet my bed, Malfoy. Most of them have the advantage of breasts. But it would be unfair of me not to give you a chance when you try so hard to get my attention. Why don’t you come to my room tonight?”

“Really, Riddle?” Rosier said, raising an eyebrow. He was Riddle’s closest.

Riddle grinned at him. “Really, Rosier. Who am I to refuse sex from such a pretty…little…girl?”

He lifted his wand, and to Lucius’ horror, his long hair lengthened further, his chest bulged out and he felt alarming changes in his trousers.

“What is that?” Said Rosier, staring.

“Human Transfiguration. Do none of you pay attention in class?”

“We do not learn that in class.”

Riddle shrugged, picking up his book again.

“Does that go all the way down?”

“Can you teach me how to do it, my lord?”

Riddle snorted. “Which poor boy do you have your eye on, Avery?”

“It just seems useful!”

“Please. Either you are going to sit down and study, or you’re going to leave me in peace.”

Lucius fled to the bathroom in his dorm. Fortunately, none of his dorm mates were there. He stared in horror at himself in the mirror. Riddle was right. He was a very pretty girl. As a boy, Lucius was a little too skinny and pointy. The heart shaped face framed by white-blond locks looked far more proportionate. His breasts, generous and round, pushed at his white button shirt. And he reached into his pants to find…nothing. He had girls’ bits. His cock was gone. He pressed his palms into his eyes and groaned, wondering, not for the first time, if he could actually handle playing with all this fire.

He hid in the bathroom for hours until evening came, and his dorm mates roared with laughter at the sight of him, and tried to touch his boobs. Lucius had to pull out his wand and remind them that even if he was a witch, he would be a far more formidable one than their sad arses. He walked down to the last room at the end of the hall, marked T. M. Riddle. Seventh year students did not usually get single rooms, but Tom Riddle was always above the rules. He tapped on the door twice.  
Riddle answered the door in socks, breeches, and his white shirt, with the top two buttons open. He held the door open silently, and Lucius walked into the Head Boy’s room. It was about the same size as the dorm that Lucius shared with three other boys in his years. A large crackling fireplace warmed the room, opposite was a King Sized bed with forest green bedspreads. There was a wardrobe in the corner, a desk, and a large empty glass tank on the floor.

“I think the look suits you, don’t you?” Riddle said as Lucius looked around.

“No,” Lucius said, turning to him at once, “please turn me back, my lord. Please?”

“And why wouldn’t I rather fuck this pretty girl?”

“Boys’ holes are tighter,” Lucius said at once. “And we take it much better. I won’t scream like a girl this time.”

“I must remind you that if you want me to take care of McCartney, I will consider how much you sacrifice for me.”

“I’m not doing this because of McCartney,” Lucius said. “Or at least, not just that.”

“Oh?”

“I admire you, my lord,” Lucius said, blushing.

“Are you telling me you fancy me?”

Lucius looked down, feeling stupid.

“What do you admire about me, Lucius?”

“Your wit. Your power. Your ruthlessness. I envy those who are close to you. I…want to be counted among them.”

“Every time I see you, you ask for more.” Riddle said, walking close to him. “And I ask you again, how much do you have to give?”

“Everything,” Lucius breathed.

“Let’s see how much you mean that. Strip.”

Painstakingly slowly, Lucius shrugged off his blazer, his tie, his vest and shirt, his trousers and socks, and slid his pants off with his eyes closed. Riddle chuckled.

“I don’t see why you don’t like it. But then, I suppose you don’t appreciate the beauty of the female body.”

Lucius felt Riddle’s hand on his breasts, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. As Riddle fondled his breasts, Lucius discovered how sensitive they were, and a tingling warmth built in his groin. Riddle’s fingers slipped between his legs and came back wet. He smeared it on Lucius’ lips.

“Look at me.”

Lucius opened his eyes, tears brimming.

“When you submit to me, I will consider your opinion in what we do. But it remains my choice,” Riddle told him.

He muttered an incantion, and Lucius’ body morphed back to normal.

“Thank you, thank you,” Lucius gasped.

“Now let’s see how far you’re willing to go to please me, hm? Open that trunk over there.” Riddle indicated a battered brown trunk peeking out from under his bed.

Lucius opened it to find a vast array of torture equipment. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. There were canes, paddles, whips, ropes, chains, handcuffs, candles, a cat-o-nine-tails, several dildos of differing size, and other stuff Lucius didn’t even recognise.

“Pick something I can hit you with.”

Lucius gulped. He had promised Riddle he would do anything. He doubted that Riddle would allow him to back out now, even if he wanted to. He reached for a shiny black leather handle in the entangled bunch, and found that he had pulled out a whip, about a metre long. Pale with fear, he handed it to Riddle.

“This is an enchanted bullwhip,” Riddle told him, looking incredibly amused. “It’s made of dragon leather and soaked with basilisk venom. It’s not poisonous, of course,” he added as Lucius flinched back. “When it breaks the skin, expect to feel a burning sensation. The wound cannot be healed by magical means.”

“Okay,” Lucius said faintly, feeling sick.

“Brace yourself over the desk.”  
Lucius put his hands down and bent over. Riddle adjusted his posture, pushing his back down and kicking his legs wider apart. When he was satisfied with Lucius’ pose, Lucius found that he could no longer move his hands or feet. The tears threatened again.

“Frightened?”

“Yes,” Lucius said, voice wavering.

“Second thoughts?”

Lucius kept silent. Riddle caressed his bottom before stepping back.

The first hit hurt a little less than he expected, raising a line of pain over his buttocks. The second and third was each more painful than the earlier, laid in parallel stripes down his arse. Lucius remembered that the wounds could not be healed by magical means, and thought in horror of being unable to sit in class, whimpering and shifting in his seat as the other Slytherins laughed at him.

By the tenth stroke, Lucius could not help crying out. After the twenties, Lucius lost count. It felt like his whole backside was being licked by fire, as he jerked and cowered futilely, trying to run from the whip. Sobbing, he began begging Riddle incoherently, a pitiful mess of ‘please’ and ‘hurts’. The final stroke was crueler than all the others, slashing across the fire in an explosion of pain that Lucius didn’t think was possible. He realised belatedly, as the prickling heat rose along that line, that none of the other stokes had broken skin.

Riddle’s cock pressed against his burning arse as he sobbed. Riddle spread Lucius’ cheeks and rubbed his cock against the cleft. Riddle must have conjured some lube, because Lucius’ crack was suddenly sticky and dribbling down to his balls. Riddle lined up at his puckered entrance and eased in.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Whimpering, Lucius pushed back against the older boy, working it into his arse as he rocked his hips back and forth. When he had worked Riddle’s cock a little over half way into his arse, Riddle took his hips and plunged in the rest of the way. Lucius broke his promise not to scream. But Riddle was not quite as brutal as last time. He took long deep strokes that brushed Lucius’ prostate on every pass. His pace was even and languid. There began to be some note of pleasure in Lucius’ whimpers. When Riddle’s hand closed around his cock, he jerked, pushing into his hand.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes, please, my lord, please…”

The hand withdrew.

“You’ll have to learn to come from getting fucked, then.”

Lucius moaned in protest, eagerly angling his hips back so that Riddle’s thrusts would hit his prostate harder. He pushed back, meeting Riddle thrust for thrust, until his balls tightened and he was only a few strokes away from coming, when Riddle pulled out and his come splattered over Lucius’ sore ass.

“More, more, please please please,” Lucius sobbed.

“More?” Riddle said. “If you really want to come, I suppose I’ll let you rub yourself against my leg.”

Riddle pulled him back by his hair and threw him to the ground. Lucius rubbed against Riddle’s clothed leg, rutting desperately until he squirted stripes of white across Riddle’s black breeches. He fell to the ground, sniffling.

“What a sight you are.”

“Have I pleased you?” Lucius asked, looking up tearfully.

“You did well.”

“Can I…can I kiss you?”

“Do you want to kiss me or do you want me to take care of McCartney?”

“…Kiss,” Lucius whispered, feeling acutely vulnerable.

Riddle laughed. He pulled Lucius up and sat down on his bed, with Lucius in his lap. Lucius wrapped his arms around Riddle’s neck and pressed his lips to the older boy’s. Riddle held him and kissed him back, and despite his flaming arse Lucius felt blissful. When Riddle drew back, Lucius pressed kisses down his jaw, clinging to him greedily.

“This is what you want, is it? You want to kiss me.”

“More,” Lucius said.

“What more?”

“I want to sit with you. I want to talk with you. I want you to teach me spells. I want you to let me touch you.”

Riddle pushed him off his lap. “You want me to be your boyfriend.”

“No,” Lucius gasped, shaking his head. “I want you to be my lord. You said you are a generous lord, my lord…”

Riddle scrutinized him. “I can be.”

“Then, please. Am I not worth your time?”

“You have caught my attention,” said Riddle. “You still have to hold it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“The Blood-Splitter Curse,” Riddle said abruptly. “Impressive, for a fourteen-year-old.”

Lucius looked at him warily, wondering if he was about to be punished for cursing Macnair. But Riddle didn’t seem angry.

“I want to know what else you can do. Teach you spells, you said? Tomorrow, 8 o’clock. The old defence classroom in the third floor east wing. Impress me some more.”

“Yes.” Lucius lit up. “I won’t disappoint you, my lord.”

Riddle summoned a little jar.

“Healing salve. It will take about a week for the welts to heal properly. Apply it twice daily.”

“Thank you,” Lucius said, taking it.

“Leave.”

Lucius hurriedly obeyed, eager to go through his books for something that would impress Tom Riddle.

 


	3. The Kill

 

Lucius was a little late for his meeting with Riddle the next day. His arse hurt badly and he had tried his best all day to act like it didn’t kill him to sit down. The healing salve had helped, but he could see the angry red welts in the mirror and they were nowhere close to fading. The events of the previous day had gotten round to the younger Slytherins, and they mocked him more than ever, calling him a slut and a whore. The older Slytherins, who had seen him come out of Riddle’s room, eyed him curiously, not quite so openly hostile. He had poured over his spellbooks all day, brushing up on the darkest and most powerful spells he knew, hoping one of them would impress Riddle. Lucius was of a long noble line, and had begun learning magic young. He was one of the brightest of the fourth-years, and had been a certain candidate for prefect the next year, had it not been for his social disgrace. A prefect had to be able to lead.

  
He walked into the old defence classroom to find not only Riddle, but Ewan McCartney, lying at his feet in a full body bind. Lucius struggled not to gape.  
“He’s all yours, Lucius,” said Riddle.

  
Without much thought, Lucius threw out a Bat-Bogey Hex.

  
“That’s cute,” Riddle said calmly as bats began to climb out of McCartney’s nostrils, each larger than the other. ”Try some real Dark Arts.”

Lucius used a Bone Shattering Curse, and took satisfaction in the way McCartney’s chest caved in.

  
“Good,” said Riddle. “But what spells do you know that can kill?”

  
Lucius paused, his eyes widening. “You want me to kill him?”

  
“You asked me for revenge.”

“We’ll get expelled.”

“That won’t happen.”

Lucius stared at Riddle, his wand still pointed at McCartney.

“If I kill him, we won’t get expelled?”

“I thought you admired me, Lucius. Have you no faith in me?”

“I do, my lord, I do. But…even if no one knows you brought him here, even if we dispose of him, what if he becomes a ghost? High concentration of magical power, violent unhappy death, it’s the perfect recipe.”

“A valid question. But certain forms of the Dark Arts provide a clause that prevents the victim from coming back to haunt you. Do you know any curses with this property?”

Lucius searched his mind. “No, my lord.”

“The Transmorgrifian Torture,” said Riddle. Taking a quill out of his pocket, he transfigured it into a porcupine. “Watch carefully. _Tardus autem tristitia mortem_.”

The porcupine began to jerk, much like under a Cruciatus Curse.

“The wand movement is not difficult, neither is the incantion, for someone who has studied latin well. Your intent is vital. Channel your hatred. Wish upon your victim a torturous death. In Dark Arts, intent is always the most important factor, though, of course, any mistake can be dangerous.”

“What is happening to it?”

“Its internal organs are undergoing corrupting changes. The influence spreads slowly, stiffening and blackening everywhere it touches, until it turns into a burnt corpse.”

As Riddle spoke, the blackness began to spread alone the porcupine’s underbelly. Within a minute, it became fully blackened, and turned back into a quill, before dissolving into ash.

“ _Evanesco_. Now, you try it.”

“ _Tardus autem tristitia mortem_ ,” incanted Lucius, drawing the tip of his wand in a ripple over McCartney’s body.

A blast of deep blue hit McCartney, and black smoke rose from his body.

“A good start. Your wand is slightly off.” Riddle stepped behind Lucius and took his wand hand, tracing the wand movement. “Try again. Remember how much you loathe him.”

" _Tardus autem tristitia mortem_ ,” incanted Lucius again.

It took five tries for Lucius to get it mostly right, with Riddle standing just behind him, heat and power radiating from his body. Lucius was desperate to please Riddle, absolutely despised McCartney, and with Riddle’s calm, clinical instructions, it was easy to see McCartney as no more than a porcupine. But when his correct curse hit, and McCartney’s eyeballs began to blacken and shrivel, Lucius began to be afraid, that he was killing a man.

“Frightened?” Said Riddle, wrapping his arms around Lucius’ waist. “It is understandable to be frightened about your first kill. Like losing your virginity, something changes.”

“I’m not afraid to kill him,” Lucius lied. “I just don’t want to be caught.”

“He disappeared without a trace,” said Riddle, his voice rich and pleasant. “No one knows where he was. He seemed agitated today, and told his friends he was going for a walk on the grounds. He never came back. Maybe he foolishly wandered off into the forest. You and I, of course, were in the Slytherin Dungeons, all our housemates will attest. Such a shame. So young.”

Lucius trembled in his arms. “Have you killed before, my lord?”

“Yes,” said Riddle, as lightly as if Lucius was enquiring after the weather. “Also for revenge.”

“Will you kill me if I cross you?” Lucius' heart thudded heavily.

“It depends on how deeply you displease me. But you know not to do that, hm?”

“Yes. Thank you, my lord. For this.”

“Mm. It appears your curse was not quite on point. He should be dead by now. At the rate the blackness is spreading, it will take an hour, and I don’t want to be here so long. Put him out of his misery, Lucius.”

“My lord?”

“Use the Killing Curse. It is easy, even if you have never tried it before. Efficient. Quick.”

“ _Avada kedavra_.” The life flew from McCartney’s broken body before his eyes.

“You are quite talented, little Lucius. Why did I never notice you before? You take to dark magic with a natural affinity. Maybe you do have more to offer me than a lovely arse.”

Lucius whimpered as Riddle squeezed a sore buttock.

“Go back to Slytherin. I will dispose of it.”

“Should I…tell the others to cover for us?”

Riddle laughed, putting a disillusionment charm over the corpse, and another over Lucius. “Presumptuous, Malfoy. Who would listen to you? Go to your room and stay quiet.”

Lucius hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts, avoiding a few close brushes with passing students. It was close to curfew, and there were few people still out of their dorms. When got to the Slytherin common room, Riddle’s little group was sitting in the best seats around the fire, a few groups of younger students scattered around.

Evan Rosier looked up as the portrait hole opened to admit, apparently nobody. He drew his wand.

“Show yourself.”

Lucius tapped himself on the head and rippled back into focus. Rosier narrowed his eyes.

“What are you doing, Malfoy?”

Lucius smirked, suddenly emboldened by the knowledge of what he had just done. How could any of the Slytherins frighten him anymore now that he had killed a man?

“Forgive me, Rosier. Not at liberty to tell.”

He swept back to his dorm, stares following him all the way.

The next morning, news of Ewan McCartney’s disappearance spread. Students were not too concerned, but the professors had a duty to take it seriously. As someone with an obvious incentive, Lucius was called to the Headmaster’s Office, along with the Head Boy and Girl, some of McCartney’s friends, and all the prefects.

“Mr. McCartney told his friends yesterday evening around 8 o’clock that he was feeling like a late night walk, alone,” said Dippet. “Mr. McCartney never returned from his walk, and he has not been found within the Hogwarts Castle or on the grounds. If any of you saw him last night, or have any information where he went, this might help us to find him. Anyone?”

Lucius saw in his mind’s eye, vividly, McCartney’s half-blackened corpse. He glanced at Riddle, standing next to the Head Girl. Dippet caught the motion.

“Mr. Malfoy. Would you have any idea?”

“No, sir!” Lucius let just a hint of vindictive pleasure creep into his tone, knowing that as a Slytherin himself, Dippet expected it. It wouldn’t do to act the innocent lamb when his grievance with McCartney was widely known. “McCartney and I have not spoken in over a week. I have been…preoccupied.”

Lucius looked down, biting his lip. Slytherins didn’t tell, but he was quite sure the headmaster had a perfectly good idea of how he had been treated, sometimes in full view of the teachers. Dippet looked slightly uncomfortable.

“I see. Mr. Riddle, can you…confirm this?”

“I understand that Malfoy has been having some problems with the other students lately. As Head Boy, I have tried to remind my fellow Slytherins of the unity that should be afforded to a housemate. Just last night I had to give some Slytherins a talk. I’m sure the situation will improve, soon.”

“Excellent, excellent, Mr. Riddle. Well, this has been an unfortunate turn of events…ah, anybody else? Anyone?”

Lucius left the Headmaster’s Office confident both that he was not suspected and that there were no leads concerning McCartney’s whereabouts. He wondered what Riddle had done with him. He wondered if he was allowed to ask. But Riddle didn’t look his way any time during the informal interrogation, and he hurried back to the Charms class he had been pulled out of.

Late in the evening, after he got back from studying alone in the library, which he had taken to doing to avoid his housemates who preferred the common room, he found Riddle and his group in front of the fireplace yet again, this time the full group. Riddle sat in the middle, Rosier on his right, Selwyn on his left, surrounded by Yaxley, Macnair, Avery, Rookwood, Dolohov and Lestrange. They all looked up as he walked in and Lucius froze for a moment before he forced himself to relax and nodded cordially to the most powerful Slytherins in the House.

“Come, Malfoy,” Riddle called him.

Lucius approached them, glancing around at the faces of Riddle’s followers. Macnair and Yaxley showed open contempt. Avery’s gaze seemed lecherous. The others all seemed measured, as they assessed him with their eyes. Lucius wondered if Riddle had told them.

“We’ve been hearing about you an awful lot, Malfoy,” said Selwyn.

“Good things, I hope,” Lucius said dryly.

“Seen quite a lot of you too,” Avery added pointedly.

“No actually, Avery, you haven’t.”

“So how did you do it?” Asked Rosier, fixing Lucius with gleaming blue eyes.

Lucius could not help looking at Riddle. Rosier caught the motion and smirked. Lucius cursed himself internally.

“What are you referring to, Rosier?” He pretended.

“Yes, Rosier, what are you referring to,” Macnair mocked. “Are you saying that this little faggot could kill and dispose of? I’d bet you-”

“Oh Macnair,” Riddle said softly, “Is that nosebleed a little better now? A shame Madam Hudgins couldn’t quite fix it.”

Macnair flushed angrily as the others laughed.

“You all are being quite rude to my new friend,” Riddle continued. “A Malfoy of a long noble line, a wizard whose enemies disappear mysteriously, and a boy whose cock-sucking skills are frankly unrivaled.”

Riddle smiled as the entire group burst into laughter. Lucius tried not to let it get to him. Riddle’s softly enunciated insults was apparently something all of his closest had to deal with. Riddle pulled out one of the cushions from the armchair he was sitting on, and placed it at his feet.

“I hope it’s not your bedtime yet, Malfoy. Sit with us.”

The laughter did not stop. Lucius glanced around, but all the other armchairs were far from Riddle’s little circle, and even then, it was too close-packed to add another without moving all the others. Lucius set down his book bag, and sat down cross-legged on the cushion as though it were not an insult.

“Your new friend sure is cute, my lord,” said Yaxley, smirking.

Riddle did not defend him this time, but rather, began running his fingers through Lucius’ hair. Lucius didn’t protest. Grudging and unfriendly though many of them still were, none had objected to Riddle letting him into their group. As the others began talking of homework and Quidditch, Lucius leaned against Riddle’s leg and pulled out his Potions book. Memorizing recipes was a brainless enough task to do among the wolves.

As he began, quite distracted, half listening to Riddle and Rosier’s conversation on Arithmancy, Riddle tugged on his hair and Lucius looked up.

“You asked to sit with me. Show us you deserve to be here,” he said softly.

Lucius blinked, his gaze dropping to Riddle’s crotch. Riddle sneered.

“Come on. I thought you didn’t want to be just a whore.”

Lucius blushed and looked down, trying to figure out what Riddle wanted him to do.

“Hello? Would you rather tell me the square root of magna pi or would you rather whisper sweet nothings to your little pet?” He heard Rosier say.

“It’s epsilon ka trininum,” Lucius said at once.

Rosier stared. “Did you just tell him that so he seems like a genius and justifies your decision to legitimise your little fuck-toy?”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Riddle replied.

“Can I look at your equation?” Lucius asked.

Rosier handed him the roll of parchment in his hand. Lucius looked through it carefully.

“Here. You made a miscalculation here. Ionizing the coefficient of alpha-omega doesn’t give you a magical reboost in this situation, because the delta coefficient inhibits the production of electrons. So without the reboost, you would get three hundred and twelve times the trininum, putting it under the tipping point of three hundred and fifteen, therefore, epsilon ka trininum.”

Rosier took the parchment back and looked at it. “That’s right. How would you know that? You haven’t even taken O.W.L.s.”

“I have, actually. I sat the Arithmancy O.W.L. in third year. I’m actually in your Advanced Arithmancy class, but because I worked through the sixth year curriculum in two months, Professor Vance told me to just work through the book and meet with her once a week to discuss any issues.”

Rosier stared at him like he’d grown another head.

“And you never thought you should mention this, before.”

“It would have been a little odd to mention in our single…previous…conversation.”

Rosier’s lip twitched. “Then perhaps we should have had other previous conversations.”

“I had no idea that being good with numbers impressed you so much, Rosier, or I certainly would have brought it to your attention.”

Rosier rolled his eyes. “You knew that we value talent. We value power. We worship Riddle for being the most talented wizard of the century. Avery is Quidditch Captain and the best chaser we’ve had for years. Macnair and Yaxley may not be fast with spellwork, but they are well on the way to becoming Potions Masters. Selwyn has the divination gift. Rookwood is an excellent orator. Dolohov and Lestrange have an affinity for the Dark Arts. None of us sit here just because we’re loud and pureblooded. We have earned the right to be the elite.”

Lucius looked around at each boy as Rosier mentioned them. Though all of Slytherin House knew them by name and prestige, they rarely bothered to talk to the younger students besides keeping them in line. He had not known of most of these talents that they apparently had, but of course Riddle must have a reason for choosing them to be his inner circle. He understood now why Riddle had said to show that he deserved to be here. Riddle must have pulled his records.

“Sure, Rosier, of course. I knew that you were powerful wizards. Unfortunately, you never conducted interviews.”

“Did you expect us to come knocking on your door, begging to be your friend?” Rosier sneered. “We assumed the gifted would dare to come to us. Challenge us. Why did it take being outed as a faggot for Riddle to notice you? Pardon me, why did it take sticking his cock down your throat for Riddle to see you?”

Lucius flushed and glanced at Riddle, but he was deep in conversation with Selwyn and Avery. Rosier was expecting an answer.

“Well, Malfoy? Riddle may not have told me much, but he mentioned a certain curse that you might have learned in about thirty minutes. I assumed he was lying for you, I don’t know, maybe getting your dick sucked really hard has the effect of seeing visions. If you’re so fucking talented, why have we not heard of you before?”

“I…I didn’t realise, that I was this fucking talented.”

“You’re a pureblood. Did daddy not give you enough love as a child?”

“Perhaps I’m just naturally modest,” Lucius said dryly.

“Please, Malfoy. Has Riddle not spoken to you of our vision? His vision, to be more exact?”

“No,” Lucius said, feeling out of the loop.

“You’ve started calling him your lord. Do you know why we call him that?”

“…No.”

“Riddle!” Rosier snapped. “What have you spent all your time with Malfoy doing? Fucking his brains out inch by inch?”

Riddle, interrupted with his conversation, gave them a sweeping glance. His eyes paused on Lucius, and Lucius thought he saw a little approval.

“Jealous, Rosier?” Riddle replied. “I suppose we could try it, although I’m not sure you’d be quite as pretty a girl.”  
Rosier snarled and Riddle turned away with a smirk.

“Of course. I suppose you’re my responsibility now. He would prefer to just have the good sex.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucius said, sitting up, annoyed at all that he apparently didn’t know.

Rosier set down his parchment with a long suffering look.

“Have you ever felt that you are being held back by the ignorant? Isolated for being different? Attacked, perhaps, for some superficial quality that makes a difference only to the indoctrinated?” Rosier asked with a pointed look, as if the answer was obvious.

“Are we talking about that ‘superficial quality’ that you all have been giving me shit for?”

“Certainly, Malfoy. But not that in particular. Other qualities. Blood status, perhaps. Age. Distinctions that people force upon you to inhibit you from reaching your full potential.”

“Are you saying that you don’t believe in those things?” Lucius said. “That’s what you have preached to us all through my years as a Slytherin.”

“We take advantage of those things, Malfoy, a concept that should not be too unfamiliar.” Said Rosier. “We see it as self-evident that we, the gifted, the elite, should have a natural place in this world at the top of the social order. We should be respected for our talents and given the full right to develop, the results of which would be astounding. Imagine a world where every wizard or witch in positions of power were smart. We wish it was that way now, but it could not be further from the truth. We are ruled by imbeciles, boxed in by rules and distinctions that make no logical sense. Things need to change, but unfortunately, the world is filled with imbeciles, and then there are people like you. Talented, but misguided, with no idea what they can do, squandering their talent in anonymity. That is why we need Tom Riddle. He is our lord. He is so incredible he will be able to lead us to infiltrate the existing order and flip it to our interests. And we’ll do it so smoothly that the dumb plebs will barely notice what has happened. They are used to being ruled. Rather it be some power-hungry dumbass, it should be us, because we will guide them towards the greater good, show them the bigger picture— I could go on. But let’s make sure you’re keeping up thus far.”

“I understand,” said Lucius slowly. “That’s why you call him your lord. You think he’s the hero of the…smart?”

“I prefer erudite,” said Rosier. “But we value all types of talents. We are believers in a type of elitism, I suppose, but one that is rooted in truth.”

“I had no idea Slytherins were so idealistic. What you say sounds like more of a Ravenclaw dream.”

“Everyone is idealistic, it’s just that some ideas are stupid. We’re much like Ravenclaws, except we’ll actually get things done.”

“It has been enlightening to speak to you, Rosier,” Lucius said, a lot more polite than he had been previously.

“It would be enlightening to speak to Riddle too, if he actually stopped fucking you long enough to do that.”

“Haven’t you quite fulfilled your quota for sex jokes today, Rosier?” Said Riddle.

Lucius looked up, having almost forgotten he was there, so engrossed was he in Rosier’s monologue.

“I don’t know, Riddle, does it qualify as a joke if it’s true?”

“That makes it a less funny joke.”

“Not true. It makes it a hysterical truth.”

“It’s getting late, Rosier. All the little ones have gone off to bed. How about you resume your lecture tomorrow?”

“How about you continue my lecture tonight?” Rosier said darkly. “You know, rather than-“

“ _Silencio_.” Said Riddle.

Lucius tried to hold back a snicker. Rosier glared at him, and headed to his dorm, as did the others. Riddle didn’t move, though, and so neither did Lucius. It was indeed getting late, and the common room was empty but for the two of them.

“Did you like Rosier?” Asked Riddle after a while.

“Yes, my lord.” It felt a little strange to Lucius, calling him that, after just learning that it was more than a sign of reverence or subservience but an ideology that Lucius had never heard of before today.

“Did you like what he said?”

“I…maybe. I don’t know.”

“You’re quite smart, Lucius. You have proved that. But it seems that you have never thought for yourself for a moment in your life.”

Lucius looked up at him, having no idea how he had gotten to this point.

“You might be right, my lord.”

Riddle stroked his cheek.

“You should try it. Tonight, start by thinking if you really want to call me your lord.”

Brushing his thumb over Lucius’ lip, Riddle stood up, and headed for his room.

 


	4. The Trials

"Yes?”

  
It was very early in the morning, but Lucius had not slept all night. Perhaps Riddle had not either, for he answered his door fully dressed, wavy hair combed into place, as though he looked that way all hours of the day. Perhaps he was a vampire and never slept.

“I want to know more,” said Lucius.

Riddle let him step inside.

There was no such thing as daylight in the Slytherin dungeons, only the water lurching outside Riddle’s window was a slightly lighter green.

“I don’t have an answer,” said Lucius, looking into Riddle’s dark eyes. “I am tempted by you, but you knew that, when I was eager to jump on any chance I had to be close to you. I am...tempted, by what Rosier said. But if I am to think for myself, I think I’ll need more than that to build my decision on.”

“Walk with me,” said Riddle. He opened the door again, and Lucius followed him out of his room, out of the dungeons, and onto the cold, early-morning Hogwarts grounds.

Frost clung to the grass, crunching underfoot as they walked down towards the lake.

“Your father disowned you. What do you plan to do about that?” Riddle asked.

“Er,” said Lucius. “Go home and try to talk to him?”

“If he has in fact burned your name off your family tree, you will not even get through your own wards. Has he done that?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t replied to my letters.”

“He hasn’t. Do you know why?”

“I’m…his only son. My mother is dead. It would be inconvenient for him to beget another heir. If he disowns me, the English branch of the Malfoy family ends and our fortune will go to my cousin Emmanuel. He doesn’t want to see that.”

“Yes. And so, what reception would you expect when you go home for Yuletide?”

Lucius paused to think about it.

“He will expect me to beg for forgiveness. Then…ah, he’ll tell me to renounce my ways. He’ll probably throw a ball so I can canoodle with pureblood girls and prove that what I did was only a momentary indiscretion. He’ll probably expect me to announce my engagement to some nice, respectable pureblood girl the moment I turn sixteen. Probably a Black, my father has been hoping to lend prestige to the Malfoy fortune for some time.”

“Exactly. It is ridiculously easy to predict the actions of a pureblood patriarch, their motives are so clear. Purity. Prestige. Fortune. Aren’t they tiresome? I know exactly what I need to say and do to impress one, though I am a parentless half-blood.”

“He acts for the good of the House,” Lucius said, realising as he spoke that he was only giving voice to what he had been taught.

“Ah, the good of the House,” said Riddle with a sardonic smile. “What constitutes ‘the House’? Your father and you are the only living members of the Wiltshire Malfoys. Is House Malfoy, then, that burden of heritage and expectation that you bear? Or is it you? Your happiness, your interests?”

“The expectation is that they are one and the same.”

“But is it? What you just described, Lucius, is that what you want? Married straight out of school to a respectable pureblood girl. Bear an heir as soon as you can and teach him the exact same things. Learn to take on the mantle of the patriarch as your father releases it to you. It is a fortunate lot to be born a Malfoy, but the story is quite decided. What do you really want?”

“I…” Lucius cut himself short, afraid to sound childish again, but as always, Riddle was not fooled.

“You want me,” said Riddle, “But you don’t quite understand why you are so fascinated with me. You must know other powerful, attractive wizards. Would you have allowed them to do to you the things I have done?”

Riddle’s voice was soft, hypnotic, seductive despite the fact that he was addressing how much he had abused Lucius.

“I didn’t know refusing you was an option.”

“It’s not. I do exactly as I please. That tempts you, does it not? You are drawn to it, even at your own expense.”

“Yes,” Lucius whispered.

“You have desired me, but thought it impossible to have me, and locked your desires away, stayed still and quiet in your place. When I wanted you, I had you. Nothing stands in my way. This is what I offer you, when you call me your lord. Excess, decadence, immediate gratification of your every desire. There is no other way of life that can compare.”

“Does that mean I can have you?”

Riddle smirked, drawing so close Lucius could feel Riddle’s breath on his lips.

“If you deserve it.”

Lucius had never felt such pounding desire, blood surging, mind clouded, cock swelling uncomfortably in his trousers. He wanted badly to kiss Riddle. And why shoudn’t he? Riddle had just said he could do anything he wanted. He grabbed Riddle’s tie as he pulled away, and pulled him back for a kiss. It was everything he wanted.

“Good,” said Riddle. “Now you have a desire that drives you. Act on it.”

“How?”

Riddle snickered. “You need to work on the thinking for yourself part. But I shall generously offer some more guidance. Two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, come to the seventh floor corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Don’t be late.”

Lucius ran into Rosier and Selwyn on his way to the seventh floor. They looked at each other knowingly, and allowed him to walk with them. Lucius had thought that perhaps Riddle planned on another Dark Arts tutoring session, but evidently, the entire group was invited.

“Do you know what we’re doing today?” Lucius broke the silence.

“Things beyond your wildest dreams,” said Rosier sarcastically, “though that’s a poor qualifier, given you don’t seem to have much of an imagination.”

Selwyn laughed. “It’s going to be an interesting day. Settle down, Rosier.”

“Is he going to do what I think?”

“Why yes, I daresay he is.”

“If this is another one of your dud predictions, I will tear your inner eye out, Selwyn. Nothing would please me more.”

“I’m sure our lord will satisfy your bloodlust.”

Lucius pushed aside his curiosity about what was to come to ask about the more immediate question.

“How does your gift work, Selwyn? I understand that the divination gift manifests itself in erratic ways.”

Selwyn eyed him as though considering if he was worthy of the information.

He said, “My gift is my intuition. I don’t see visions or make prophecies, but I know things that be. It’s generally considered a weak form of divination, but my manifestation is unusually strong. I can sense things from what I hear and see.”

“You know things that be,” Lucius repeated, confused.

“When I get the Daily Prophet and I read an article about a break in at Gringotts, I know who did it and where they are now. When I brush past a suit of armour, I know that it was worn by Sir Callum the Great in battle with the goblins.”

“That’s astounding,” Lucius admitted.

“Is it? What I find interesting is how much things can change. When I saw you the day pictures of you in the nude were cheaper than owl droppings, I sensed you were going to get raped. That didn’t happen. Now, I sense you’re going to get really fucking bloody.”

Selwyn sounded gleeful at the thought. Deeply disturbed, Lucius couldn’t muster a response.

“By the way, I learned entirely too much about your sexual preferences from touching that picture. Divination does have some gross side-effects.”

“That is...unfortunate. For both of us.” Lucius grimaced.

“Oh, not necessarily. I could always let our lord know what you like in bed if you’re too shy to tell him.”

Lucius stumbled a little.

“But really, Malfoy. What are you doing with our lord?”

“Yes, quite frankly, all of us are getting quite voyeuristic in our curiosity,” said Rosier. “I never expected to ever have a discussion about how two men fuck.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Lucius said dryly. “Unfortunately, I have about as much idea as you.”

“What’s the deal, though?” Selwyn pressed. “At first I thought he was just bored and you were just an uppity little faggot. Not that I changed my mind on that, but he seems to be a lot more invested than I expected. Are you trying to be one of us or are you trying to be Riddle’s whore? Because being both seems like a very fucking strange position.”

“Merlin and Morgana,” Lucius muttered. “I don’t know. Aren’t you the Seer?”

“I see outcomes, dipshit, not choices.”

At this point, they reached the seventh floor corridor Riddle had told him to come to. There was a single small black door in the middle of the wall. The three of them fell silent, and entered one by one.

The space they emerged in seemed so unlikely to be a part of Hogwarts that Lucius wondered if that door had been a porthole. They were in a spacious Grecian hall with marble pillars down both sides and floating torches lighting up the place. On either side were double doors, all of them closed. Right ahead on a raised platform sat Tom Riddle on a throne, and in front of him knelt several others in the group. As he walked closer, Lucius found that none of them were wearing their Hogwarts uniforms. Riddle was in a deep green dress robe, and all the others were in black dress robes with matching cloaks. Riddle had never seemed so much like a lord. He looked around at Rosier and Selwyn, and found that they, too, had suddenly become dressed in black robes and cloaks. Only he still wore his uniform.

“Welcome to our lord’s Court,” said Rosier with obvious pride. “In the common room, in the corridors, we are students, but here, we are the Knights of Walpurgis.”

As he spoke, the door swung open again to admit Avery and Macnair, and the group was completed. They moved forward to what must have been their assigned places.

In the first row knelt Avery, Selwyn, Rosier, and Lestrange , in the second row, Macnair, Yaxley, Rookwood and Dolohov. Lucius was left standing behind them, disconcerted yet fascinated.

“My knights are gathered,” said Riddle in a soft voice that carried down the hall. “Tell me, what is our mission?”

“To build the kingdom of truth,” answered Rosier.

“And our creed?”

“To fight for liberty, for order, for might,” said the first row.

“To empower the deserving, enlighten the enslaved, and rule the masses,” said the second row.

“Very good. Today we have a new friend among us. Lucius Malfoy, come forth.”

Lucius walked through the gap between Selwyn and Rosier and came before the throned Riddle. Without being told, he knelt. Riddle gave him an approving nod.

“Malfoy. You have asked repeatedly to serve me, without even understanding who I am and what I stand for. Yet despite your rashness, I see your potential, and I have shown you glimpses of what I can give you. The time has come to make a decision.”

He drew his wand, and in the air before him, spelled out his full name. The letters in ‘TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE’ replaced each other in line until it read ‘I AM LORD VOLDEMORT’.

“I am Lord Voldemort. I stand for liberty, for order, for might. You know what I can offer you. Do you wish to serve me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius said, trying not to shake visibly. It was suddenly cold.

“I have challenged you to impress me and you have not disappointed. But that will not be enough. To become one of my knights you must undergo three trials. The first, is the Trial of Endurance. You are tested on your endurance of pain. You must be silent. Make a sound, and the trial ends. Endure, and I decide when to stop. Do you wish to proceed?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Rise.”

Riddle stood up as he spoke, and behind him, Lucius found that behind him, the eight Knights had also stood and moved to form a half circle. Some of them were smirking. Macnair looked entirely too happy that he was about to witness Lucius suffer.

Riddle stood on the edge of the platform, towering over Lucius. He raised his wand and Lucius flinched.

“ _Crucio_.”

  
Lucius almost screamed immediately, but just managed to hold it. He fell down, jerking, biting his lip until he drew blood, and when that wasn’t enough, he put both hands over his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose, flailing on the ground. It was too much, the pain was consuming, even the one thought of staying silent was too hard to hold onto. He could remember nothing but how much he needed this pain to stop. He must be on fire now, he had to be dying. It was no good, he couldn’t do this anymore…

“That was one minute,” said Riddle, lifting the curse.

Lucius broke into loud sobs. After a few moments, he began to register the laughter, and tried to contain himself. His body ached. Slowly, he pushed himself up, and looked up at Riddle tearfully. He had been in this position rather too much lately. Riddle offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. Lucius stumbled against him, shaking uncontrollably.

“I appreciate your endurance. In my service there may be times when pain is inevitable, and the ability to bear it will be an asset. You have shown yourself to be worthy. Now, you can proceed to the second trial, the Trial of Valour. You and I shall duel.”

“D-duel? With you?” Lucius stammered.

“Yes. I will not aim to kill, of course, though you may, if you so wish. If you yield against me, you fail. Again, the duel ends when I say so.”

Lucius stood no chance against Tom Riddle even with a double dose of Felix Felixis, he knew that. He wondered weakly if this was all an elaborate game of torture for Riddle.

“Can I have a few moments to...compose myself?”

“Certainly.” Riddle conjured a goblet of water and handed it to him. “Take your time.”

He sat back down on his throne, and Lucius sat gracelessly on the floor. Rosier walked up and offered him a chocolate bar. Lucius stared at him, stunned.

“I want to see you get really fucked up. I’m rooting for you to last longer,” he said.

“Touching,” said Lucius, and took it anyway.

“Selwyn lasted the longest, because he could predict how it was coming. Doesn’t help him defend himself, though. Aim to kill, Malfoy, aim to kill. Shoot Killing Curses at his face.”

With that disturbing advice, Lucius stood up and looked towards Riddle, sprawled over his throne and spinning his wand between his fingers.

“Ready?” He asked.

Riddle got up and stepped off the platform. The other eight Knights moved back towards the pillars, giving them more space, and Lucius backed up an appropriate distance. They bowed.

Riddle’s spells were all silent. Lucius immediately fired a Killing Curse, but when he spoke the incantion only a puff of smoke emerged from his wand. He tried to dodge

Riddle’s first spell, but he moved too late and a deep gash opened along his shoulder. Just a Cutting Charm.

“Shit,” he groaned.

He put up a Shield Charm, which Riddle’s next spell bounced off, and fired off a range of the mid-level combat spells he knew. Stunning Charm, Bludgeon Curse, Full-Body Bind, Jelly-legs Jinx. Riddle waved them off like they were nothing, and his next spell shattered Lucius’ shield. He dove to the ground, and the spell whizzed over his head, whipping off a lock of his hair.

He tried a Serpensortia while he was down, but Riddle hissed at the six-foot python and it turned on him, looping its body around his leg so he couldn’t get up. As the snake exposed its huge fangs to bite him, he hit it with a Killing Curse. It went limp immediately. He struggled to kick its heavy body from his leg, and as he was distracted, Riddle advanced, and another two Cutting Charms hit him in the chest, tearing his uniform open in an omnious ‘X’. Lucius gasped at the pain and rolled aside as more spells were hurled his way. Lucius conjured a stream of angry little birds to bother Riddle, and it made him pause long enough for Lucius to get on his feet again. A whip of fire emerged from Riddle’s wand to whip them all down, and when they dropped to the floor, he turned it on Lucius. Lucius put up a shield, but the whip slashed through it as though it wasn’t there and hit Lucius in the face. He screamed, one eye blinded and the whip hit him again and again. With a last burst of strength, Lucius conjured a brick wall. The whip hit the wall with a satisfying crack. He stumbled as far back as he could, firing off random curses until he hit a wall, panting. His clothes fell off him in ragged pieces, revealing his bloody and scorched torso. Riddle strode towards him languidly, casually parrying Lucius’ spells. Lucius ran and hid behind a pillar. Summoning all the pain and anger he was feeling, he fired another Killing Curse from behind the pillar. He heard a loud clatter of shattering glass.

“That will do,” said Riddle.

He rounded the pillar cautiously to see Riddle with his arm around a very pale looking Rookwood, and the remains of a shattered mirror on the ground. Riddle looked amused.

“You almost killed Rookwood,” said Riddle. “Did you just think of a different victim to make your Killing Curse work?”

Lucius didn’t answer. Riddle let go of Rookwood and clapped his hands. All the damage to the hall vanished, and the other Knights emerged from behind pillars and stared at him incredulously.

“Not bad at all,” said Riddle, smiling, as he trailed his wand along the bleeding gashes on Lucius’ body, and they dried and scabbed over. “I need you to be my soldier, to attack and defend, and you have proven yourself capable. Now, only the last trial remains.”

“Is it death?” Lucius said wearily.

Riddle laughed. “You might prefer that, hm? The last trial is the Trial of Truth. I want you to look into my eyes and let me penetrate your mind. I want you to trust me with all your secrets. Can you do that?”

Lucius stared at him in horror, immediately thinking of all his most embarrassing moments, his darkest, most stupid thoughts. There was nothing that could make him more vulnerable.

“Did they all have to do this?” Lucius looked round at their audience.

“Of course.”

Lucius looked down, panicking.

“You said you were willing to offer me everything, Lucius,” Riddle reminded him softly.

“Yes,” Lucius said, “I know. But…”

“What are you afraid for me to see? Do you think that I will see through you and think less of you? Or that I will see your fears and use them against you?”

“Yes, I fear those things,” Lucius admitted.

“I want to understand you. When I have seen what it is you desire, I will be able to give it to you.”

Lucius took a shuddering breath. “Yes. Yes, my lord.”

He stepped forward and looked into Riddle’s eyes. Riddle smiled. For a second, Lucius thought his eyes flashed red, and a foreign presence entered his mind. It was uncomfortable and jarring, like the moment one was waking up from a nightmare, unable to discern reality and dream. Bits and scraps of unrelated memories floated to the front of his mind briefly, and then was replaced. He suddenly saw in slow motion him and Riddle standing on the grounds, as he pulled Riddle’s head down to kiss him, and felt the elation and arousal as though he was in that moment. This was unfair.

When Riddle withdrew, smirking, Lucius found that he was in Riddle’s arms. Riddle let go of him quickly and turned back to sit on his throne.

“Friends, welcome your new comrade. Our ninth Knight of Walpurgis is born today.”

Filing back into their positions, the other Knights clapped and whistled. Riddle raised a hand, and Lucius found himself clothed in the same black robe and cloak as the other Knights.

“From this day forth, Lucius Malfoy is to be afforded the same privileges as the other Knights. You serve the same lord, and therefore, you will lend a helping hand to each other. Let bygones be forgotten. Are we understood?”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Resume your projects. I will talk to you later.”

They rose and in ones and twos disappeared through different double doors on either side of the hall.

“What projects do they have?”

“I can show you later. Come here.” Riddle crooked his fingers at him.

Lucius stepped up onto the platform, and Riddle pulled him into his lap.

“You have pleased me, Lucius. I have a reward for you.”

 


	5. The Claim

Lucius tried to pretend that didn’t immediately make his cock hard.

“What does that mean?”

“You look nice in my uniform. But I still prefer you without.”

Lucius’ clothing disappeared. He shivered and blushed.

“My lord! Are they going to…” He glanced at the double doors.

“They’re busy. And even if they were all here, you’d let me do whatever I want, would you not?”

Riddle pushed his hand up Lucius’ bare thigh, and Lucius found it hard to disagree. He began to stroke Lucius’ cock, his grip firm and fingers deft. Lucius gasped, leaning back into Riddle’s chest, bucking into his grip, and turned his head to kiss him. Riddle’s thumb swept round the head of Lucius’ cock, spreading the precome and rubbing the little slit. Lucius whimpered against Riddle’s mouth.

“My lord, my lord…”

“So sweet.”

Riddle’s hand sped up. Moaning and thrusting, Lucius let his eyes fall shut for a moment before he opened them, thirstily taking in Riddle’s good looks. Riddle’s pupils were dialated and his lips were wet.

“I think I’m going to come,” Lucius gasped.

Riddle’s hand slowed. “Not until I say so. My choice, Lucius. Always.”

“Uhh…” Lucius bit his lip, thrusting wildly. “Yes, my lord. Yours. Please...haven’t I been good…? Please say, please, oh, let me come!”

Riddle skillfully brought him to the edge and down again several times, until Lucius had forgotten anything but how much he needed release, rutting against Riddle’s palm, babbling, “Please, please, please, please please!”

“Come.”

Strings of white liquid shot up from Lucius’ cock, coating his stomach. Lucius groaned loudly, light with pleasure, shaking with the force of it. He clutched at Riddle’s robes, grinding back into Riddle’s hard cock.

“Salazar fucking Slytherin,” Lucius whimpered as the pleasure ebbed, sniffling.

“You cry an awful lot,” said Riddle, amused.

“Might be because you take such pleasure in torturing me.”

“I have no qualms in making you cry some more.” Riddle shifted Lucius’ weight on his lap so his cock pressed into his crack. “It does please me so.”

Lucius shuddered. “Master…”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Lucius looked at Riddle wide-eyed, wondering what was wrong with himself, and found a distinctly predatory look on Riddle’s face.

“Say it again.”

“Um. Master.”

“Louder.”

“Master!” Lucius flushed in humiliation.

Riddle took his chin and made him look up. Riddle's eyes were dark, his pupils were more dilated than Lucius could ever remember seeing, and Lucius stiffened under the intensity of that stare. It was terrifying, elating. No one had ever looked at him like that before. And now, his lord, his hero, was looking at Lucius like he was the only treasure the world had to offer.

“I like that very much, Lucius. Maybe you should call me that all the time.”

“In school?”

“As often as you can. It would please me.”

Lucius gulped. “Yes, Master.”

Riddle picked Lucius up and stood up, pressing him against the nearest pillar. Pinned with his toes dangling several inches off the ground, Lucius wrapped his legs around Riddle’s waist. Riddle pressed two lubricated fingers against his anus, a frown on his face.

“Beg me.”

“Master,” Lucius moaned at once. “Please, master. Stretch me open for you...mhh!”

Riddle thrust his fingers in and out of Lucius’ arse with a filthy, wet sound. Lucius whimpered loudly and yelped when Riddle brushed his prostate.

“Master, master, fuck me, now, please!”

Riddle did not torture him this time. He pulled off his robes in a swift motion and sank his thick cock deep into Lucius’ arse. It burned so blissfully. Lucius had never thought he could love pain so much. He tugged at his pinned hands, wanting desperately to touch, as Riddle began to pump into him.

“I want to touch you. Let me, master, please?”

Riddle backhanded him across the cheek. “You’re forgetting yourself, boy.”

Lucius sobbed, dejected. Riddle lifted Lucius’ knees and pushed them back for a deeper angle, changing to an even more brutal pace. Lucius was so sore and raw, pinned down, crying harder than ever as Riddle had his use of him.

As Riddle came, he bit down on Lucius’ collarbone. Lucius yelped, clenching down on Riddle’s cock. Riddle slowed down as his spunk coated Lucius’ insides, thrusting measuredly until he finally let Lucius’ legs fall. Panting, he stepped back and waved a Cleaning Charm over himself, and paused, head tilted, as if to admire his handiwork.

Lucius hung from the thick pillar, arms pulled over his head, stuck half way down with whatever charm Riddle kept using to stick him to things. His cheeks were wet with tears, his torso marred with several scars that Riddle had given him in their earlier duel, a sheen of sweat covering his skin, come slowly trickling down his thighs. Lucius was desperately glad he didn't have to see what he looked like. He wouldn't know how to feel if he did.

Sharp, slow claps suddenly sounded. Lucius jerked his head up, horrified, and found Rosier leaning against the double doors beyond the opposite pillar.

“So unhealthy,” he drawled.

Riddle turned around, his tone deadly. “Not now.”

Rosier wisely let the door slam shut at once.

“How long was he...? Oh, fuck,” Lucius groaned.

“Look at me.”

Lucius did so. Riddle looked more dangerous than he had ever seen, as if revitalized by his brutal domination of Lucius just minutes ago. His dark eyes flashed as he reached out a finger to trace the line of Lucius’ jaw.

“I hope you understand I own you now.”

Lucius’ breath caught.

“No one is to touch you. You’re mine to use. Mine to hurt. Mine, also, to protect and guide. If this is what you wanted when you knelt in front of me, you have it now. But understand that you can never say no to me.”

The intense pressure of Riddle’s words made Lucius shake.

“Say it.” Riddle’s fingers dropped lower to close around Lucius’ throat.

“Yes, master. I understand. You own me.” Tears spilled down Lucius’ cheeks again.

“Good boy.”

Riddle released him from the pillar. With a wave of his wand, he had cleaned Lucius up and dressed him again in the Knight uniform. He brushed away with his thumb the tears that still clung to Lucius’ lashes, and carded his fingers through Lucius’ hair.

“You asked earlier what projects my Knights were working on. There are different things. I give them tasks, according to their talents, that will be useful to our goal. You can help Rosier with what he’s doing at the moment.”

“Rosier?” Lucius winced.

Riddle laughed. “Rosier has been rather irksome lately, hm? I will make him regret it soon enough, my little Lucius.”

Lucius nodded doubtfully. Rosier seemed to be allowed to get away with all sorts of things that if Lucius did, would probably get him crucioed, or fucked, or both.

“Come.” Riddle led him through the double doors where Rosier was working.

Rosier’s room was a beautiful study. Shelves of books lined the wall, sunlight poured through large windows and Rosier sat in a high-backed chair with books and parchments spread out around him on a large desk, which, at a glance, was filled with runes and arithmancy equations.

“My lord,” said Rosier, nodding at them. “I do apologise for interrupting. I wanted you to see this.”

Rosier floated a roll of parchment to Riddle as he and Lucius walked towards the desk. Riddle unrolled it, holding it lower so Lucius could see. The parchment was filled with roughly sketched shapes, with runes jotted at different points.

“I have narrowed down five possible shapes the Mark could take. We need to inlay these seven runes at the power points, if it is to hold the properties you want it to, so it cannot be too simple. It is best if we use a symbol of strong magical properties, an animal perhaps. I can’t make it much further with my calculations until you decide.”

Lucius looked at the shapes on the parchment. There was a long, thin hexagon, a circle, a heptagon, a six-point star and a crescent.

“A serpent,” said Riddle. “Only fitting for the Heir of Slytherin.”

“What is this for?” Lucius asked.

Rosier answered. “It’s a Mark I’m creating, something to bind us together, our lord and us. It will be able to give a signal when one of us invokes it so all the others can be notified, and allow any one of us to apparate to each others’ sides even from outside an Anti-apparation barrier. Of course, it will also be a mark of our faith, perhaps something that we will become known by when we have made a name for ourselves.”

“I see,” said Lucius. For such strong properties it is best to use the most stable structure, which would be the circle.”

“Yes,” said Rosier. “A crest, perhaps?”

“How about an ouroboros?” Lucius looked to Riddle for approval. “One of the most powerful snake symbols, of life and death and infinity.”

Riddle raised an eyebrow, thinking. He nodded thoughtfully and raised his wand. With silver light he drew an intricate snake with gleaming scales that flipped round in a perfect curve and fed its tail into its mouth, spinning slowly.

“Beautiful,” said Rosier.

“It is quite elegant,” said Riddle. He reached for Lucius’ right hand, and guided the snake to spin around Lucius’ wrist. “Small. Easy to dismiss if it needed to be hidden, but unmistakable to recognise. I shall put it around your wand hands. Unable to be removed, unless you wanted to give up your hand with it.”

Riddle let go of Lucius’ hand, and the little snake disappeared.

“Excellent, my lord,” said Rosier. “If you are sure of it, I will continue with the calculations in this shape. If it goes well, you will be able to Mark us this time next week.”

“I look forward to it,” replied Riddle. “Give little Malfoy some work to do.”

“Certainly,” said Rosier with a shark-like grin.

Riddle petted Lucius on the head as he left. Lucius felt unmistakably awkward as he was left alone with Rosier, and wondered when Riddle had become a comforting presence. Riddle was turning him into a dog. Suddenly quite ashamed of himself, he looked down at the mess of parchment on the table.

“I should look at your calculations so far if I am to be any help with the next ones. Where does this mess begin? I hope you didn’t make any mistakes.”

Rosier picked out a random sequence of parchments from the pile.

“This is the summarised version. Have a seat.”

Lucius glanced around, and found that a seat had appeared for him.

“What is this place?” He asked, perplexed. “Is this whole place conjured? Why is this in Hogwarts?”

Rosier laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Frowning, Lucius sat down and rolled out the parchment.

“How about you tell me what’s going on with you and our lord, and I’ll let you in on the secret of this place?”

“It’s that good, is it, the secret?” Lucius said flatly, not looking up from the parchment.

“He treats you strangely,” Rosier observed.

“Yes, yes I have noticed that,” said Lucius airily. “I don’t believe he concluded any of your trials with rough sex.”

“No,” Rosier said with suppressed laughter. “Nor does he look at us like he wants to devour us one moment and destroy us the next.”

Lucius glanced at him briefly.

“I think that’s just his bedroom preference.”

“Or throne room. Or common room.”

“You can’t just pretend that didn’t happen, I see.”

“I’m not just interrogating you for the fun of it, Malfoy, though I admit, I’m far too amused. You see, I’ve never seen this side of Riddle before.”

“The sadism? You are surprised that a man who puts you under the Cruciatus Curse as a trial enjoys torture?”

“Not just that.”

“What? Do you think he has feelings for me?”

“Yes, Malfoy. They may not be lovely fluffy feelings, but I have known Riddle seven years and he has never shown such strong emotion as he does with you. I had been certain he couldn’t feel any.”

Lucius was just a little too late hiding the expression on his face, and Rosier brought his palms down on the desk with a bang.

“Now why does that make you happy?” He drawled.

Lucius glared at him. “Right. Strong emotion. Still none of your business.”

Rosier tilted his head and smirked. “My, my. I can see Riddle’s point, you’re much sweeter when you’re all tied up. ‘Oh, please, master…’”

“Fuck you!”

“Well that’s something none of us would enjoy. Put your humiliated non-existent pride away for a moment, Malfoy. You’re on this boat now, you should be just as concerned if the captain is unstable.”

“You think I make him unstable.”

“I think he’s never snapped at me before he had his dick up your arse.”

“I think you must be a fucking virgin if you expect a wizard to be calm and breezy when you interrupt him fucking.”

“That’s the point. Tom Riddle is not normal. He shouldn’t have normal reactions. This is a wizard who could calmly have a conversation about the weather while slicing a living wizard to pieces. Dark Arts and power are both incredibly corrupting influences, yet he has shown himself to be completely unaffected. If that is subject to change, all of us, when we take this Mark that binds us to his service, take a terribly big gamble.”

“I see your point,” said Lucius after a pause. “What do you want me to say?”

 Rosier leaned across the table.

“Is it just you? Do you, Lucius Malfoy, have some elusive quality that our lord gets a kick out of? I can handle serving a lord who is sadistic, ruthless, and unnecessarily possessive of his pretty little consort. I can’t handle yet another deranged Dark Lord.”

Lucius put down the parchment, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“I see no sign that he is deranged. He’s just very, very dominating. I daresay that’s an asset to a Dark Lord. He hasn’t done anything to me that I strongly rejected since he deemed me good enough to be worth his attention. That bodes well, I’d say, for how he treats his followers. But...I guess we’ll see. You’ve known him seven years, and I couldn’t even tell he treats me any differently.”

“Interesting,” said Rosier. “Maybe we should build a reject mechanism into the Mark.”

“I just joined today and you’re already tempting me to treason?”

“Joking, Malfoy. As if I could slip anything past him. I believe in him completely. But it’s a dangerous path we tred, and it is my duty to be aware of any danger, even from our lord. We shall see.”

“We shall see,” Lucius repeated faintly, picking up his parchment again.

His head was spinning, his body aching, there were so many questions he had not yet answered, and a dangerous master to serve. It was his first day as a Knight of Walpurgis, and Lucius would have it no other way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this story as a shameless PWP, but on the way it kind of developed a bit of P. I wanted young, innocent, gullible Lucius Malfoy, and Tom Riddle at the height of his charisma. But Lucius couldn't just drop into Riddle's life twenty years too early without any effect, and the changed design of the Dark Mark is one of the first changes.  
> The thing is, Tom Riddle may be a genius and a sociopath, but he *was* brought up in an orphanage. He...has no taste, at least not at seventeen years old. It only took one innocent little suggestion from Lucius to turn the skull-and-snake into a much more tasteful design. What other things can Lucius change for Riddle? We may find out in the sequel. I have a bit of it written.
> 
> First, I'll be posting a Riddle's POV outtake.
> 
> Thank you for your kudos and reviews, and please tell me more about what you think! Means the world to me.


	6. Outtake: Tom Riddle's POV

Riddle was not so much hetero or homosexual as he was solely attracted to pain, suffering and submission. Yet at seventeen years old, this was something he had not yet been able to explore freely. With his popularity, of course he had had sex before, with a few young witches at Hogwarts. He hadn’t had any of the Slytherin girls, because Pureblood girls were strictly required to keep chaste before marriage. But with young girls at Hogwarts, he couldn’t possibly be as violent as he would prefer to be. He had an image to uphold, and he knew girls gossiped. He could modify their memories somewhat, but it only took one little girl whispering to her friends that Tom Riddle was not nearly as gentlemanly as he pretended to be to mar his reputation. He collected sex toys with an instinctive fascination, but had no one to use them on. The summer of his sixth year, he had experimented with a few kidnapped muggle girls, but they were too weak for his liking and all ended up dead.

When Riddle heard that Lucius had been outed as a homosexual, he had not thought much of it but for contempt at Lucius’ foolishness. He was rather indifferent to such things as the disgracefulness of being gay, as he purposely rejected everything he had been told in his childhood at the orphanage. It was pure chance that he had run into the silly little boy as he went to take a bath, and on a whim he decided to have him, for no better reason than that he was bored, Lucius was there, and he could. Having screaming, crying sexual partners didn’t deter him from taking what he wanted, but it bored him. He didn’t care what he had done, knowing that downtrodden, disenfranchised Lucius Malfoy could be no threat to him.

It was when Lucius started offering him his submission that he was interested. Riddle had never noticed him before, the boy was such a stereotypical Slytherin pureblood. Riddle had expected Lucius to curl up and lick his wounds, keep his distance and cower every time he caught sight of him. The pain that Riddle had given him could not have faded yet when Lucius came before him again, determined to get his attention. Unlike his followers, Riddle didn't think it was weak for Lucius to debase himself - not when he was doing it for a reason. Riddle liked people who would go to any means to stay on top. People so very rarely surprised him. 

Poor, terrified little boy, shaking with fear yet trying to please him. Riddle toyed with him, putting to use his natural charisma. He knew how easily he inspired awe and worship. When Lucius was willing to let him debase him in front of an audience, he was intrigued. He had taken and forced people before, yet he had never had someone kneel so prettily for him and offer him whatever he wanted. He was cruel, he knew that, yet Lucius obstinately stayed. Riddle tested the limits of Lucius' endurance - turned him into a girl, beat him, used him. He wondered what Lucius possibly hoped to get from doing this, for he could see that Lucius did not like being hurt and humiliated, yet he tolerated it, he took exactly as much as Riddle wanted to deal out. Lucius told him he wanted him. The boy was obsessed, infatuated. Riddle was amused, but entertained enough to give the boy a chance. What else would the cat do when the mouse offered to be eaten?

Again, Lucius surprised him. Lucius showed him that he could hurt and kill, was in fact, unusually capable for a boy so young. It made Lucius’ submission to him all the more valuable. Riddle’s attention was caught. Lucius was no mouse - Lucius was like a baby dragon, so laughably unaware of his capabilities, and willing to be tamed and chained.

He went and smooth talked Dippet, spinning some bullshit about how he wanted to check Lucius' school files to help him with the bullying, and found that not only was Lucius an excellent student, he was a prodigy in Arithmancy. Riddle realised that Lucius was the type of wizard he and Rosier had often complained about, half in frustration, half in pity. So much potential, so tied down by stupid things. It was worth his time to make Lucius his, and he charmed Lucius with what the boy obviously coveted, a position by his side. He told him what his future could be, allowed him the privilege of seeing things he did not show to others. Then he put him through the Trials.

Riddle knew quite well that though he had begun to cultivate Lucius to think, to break away from what he had been taught all his life, Lucius did not yet really understand. Lucius did this all for  _ him _ . Lucius obeyed because that’s what Riddle told him to do. And he did it so well. Riddle had used the Cruciatus Curse many times, and never found it so arousing. Lucius fought better than he had expected, capable enough to hold up against a grown wizard in battle, yet he couldn’t cast the Killing Curse on Riddle, because he obviously couldn’t muster that intent. As he had told Lucius, plenty of people were infatuated with him. But none of them would let him do all the things he had done to Lucius and still look at him with that eager innocence. All through Lucius' trials he kept thinking about pinning him down and impaling him, put him in his place, make him squirm and cry. It was so distracting.

Then Lucius let him use Legilimency on him. 

He saw the boy’s childhood in the cold, large manor, with a mother dead before he turned four years old and a father who was distant and could never be pleased. He was brought up on idiotic pureblood rhetoric with no one to tell him that could be wrong. He was always told to make his family proud, to do better, to toe the line, and Riddle saw how hard he tried to make his father proud of him. He was punished when he did things wrong, and never praised when he did so well. He saw, at the beginning of Lucius’ Hogwarts years, himself, already the shining star of Slytherin House. Lucius had so envied him, and then that envy turned into a kind of hero-worship. He saw how nervous Lucius got when he so much as glanced at him. And in his memories of the last two weeks, Riddle could quite clearly see how the boy adored him. Lucius feared him as much as he admired him, Lucius was transfixed by the sound of his voice, Lucius would let him beat him and humiliate him just as long as he gave him a kiss and a word of praise. Poor, silly little boy. It should have made Riddle contemptuous, but instead it made something in him surge, something that made him want to plunder and possess.

He barely dismissed his followers before he put his hands on Lucius. That feeling that surged and roared made him want to crush him, break him, yet also turn Lucius into putty in his hands, limp and trusting and thanking him for whatever Riddle deaned to give him. He went with the latter, because Lucius had done so very well. He deserved a little taste of that pleasure he was so addicted to. Riddle made Lucius come, and Lucius called him  _ Master _ . It was surprising, perhaps, that it had never occurred to Riddle to make anyone call him that, maybe it was just not a word that was in common use in this day and age, but Riddle liked the sound of that word on Lucius’ lips so much he could just hold him down and make him say it again and again. He didn’t just fuck Lucius, he took possession of him, and Lucius surrendered so perfectly, all tears and wide-eyed submission.

It was quite clear to him now that Lucius was something he liked very much, and he had no intention to give it up. He had a thousand ways to break him and use him, and he doubted that it would ever get old. It was a pleasant thing, to find something so lovely that you had never suspected was right there, in front of you, the whole time. Now that he had it, it became absolutely fundamental. 

  
  



End file.
